


Not Normal

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Category: Static Shock
Genre: Angst, Bloodplay, Knifeplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-05
Updated: 2005-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-13 02:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie and Virgil have a thing. It may not be normal, but its theirs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Normal

They couldn't stay kids forever.

Richie always knew it. Virgil, too. They had a dozen superheroes as mentors who proved that you couldn't save the world day after day without it having some kind of negative effect on your life. Well, unless you were the Flash--he seemed to survive everything with a smile. But even Superman was haunted by who and what he was, brooding when he thought Batman wasn't looking.

It was strange, a handful of years later, to think of how it once was. When they laughed off the metahuman attacks, when the hospital wards and test centers were still some vague threat of clouds on the horizon. When they could still smile, go home, and forget it all.

It wasn't that things got worse. It didn't. But pain has a cumulative effect. It builds up over years of seeing the worst of humans and metahumans, witnessing suffering, and knowing that it will never, ever go away. It wears away on your soul.

Trying to trace how it happened was like trying to trace just when his powers started appearing. Richie could look at his grades and guess that here was super-intelligence, and here was before, but it was all supposition. It had come in subtle waves, it snuck up on him, and one day he realized that he really was just as special as Virgil and the others. He wasn't just a sidekick; he was a hero, too.

Perhaps that's when it started. Richie had always been Virgil's ground. The human among freaks. His assurance that things could be okay. But as it turned out, he was just another freak.

Things were different, after that. And they continued to change. What path brought them to this place, Richie might never know, despite his mutant genius. All he knew for sure was that this was what they had now: a twisted kind of peace.

Richie ran his hands up Virgil's chest, spreading the blood across his skin. He admired the beauty of it, dark and slick, with veins of pink inner flesh and webs of blue shocks decorating his skin like living tattoos. He tipped his head, nuzzling his nose into the wetness, rubbing it beneath his lips. Blood and electricity gave the air a metallic feel, like licking a penny hooked up to a battery. Or a knife.

Richie found a wound, fresh made and seeping, and licked it carefully, exploring it completely. Worshipping it. Little shocks jumped under his skin, and he didn't know if it was from Virgil's whimpers or the taste of blood on his tongue or that constant river of energy that flowed through his lover's veins.

When Richie finally lifted his head, Virgil's eyes were burning. He jerked his chin, hands clenched tight around the bars of the headboard to keep from grabbing Richie and pulling him down into that kiss he needed so badly. He held on so tight, electricity glowed white-hot around his fists, flowing over the bars and into the floor as he trembled. Richie held onto his biceps, feeling the tremor and tenseness in the muscle, before pushing him further into the mattress and kissing him hard, deep, and heavy. Their chests were sticky-slick against each other, skin gluing together as he ground down into Virgil's erection.

It could have been enough, but Virgil always needed something more.

Richie tore his mouth free from the skilled temptation of Virgil's lips. His lover was shaking, biting his own reddened lip to keep from speaking as he stared up into Richie's face. "So good," Richie cooed softly. He had volumes of words in his head, but preferred the silence of gasps and moans and begging whimpers to any language real or imagined. It made it easier to know what was right, what made it so good. Words lied. They covered the sound of metal through skin, they made you think too much.

Richie picked up the knife, pressing it to Virgil's lips, quieting his whimpers and Richie's own mind. Their skin ripped apart wetly, coaxing out more blood as Richie changed positions. He turned around, straddling Virgil's face to settle across his torso comfortably. With a casual wiggle, he rubbed his erection across Virgil's face, teasing just a little before he captured Virgil's cock in his mouth and made him forget.

Here was just the pure taste of Virgil, salt and just a little metal and only a coppery aftertaste of blood. Heavy against his tongue, Richie sucked hard, then eased off, only to fall back and swallow him whole. He arched his back to rub against Virgil's chest, the drying blood providing just enough friction to give him an edge.

Slowly, Richie pulled back off his dick, laying it back down across his stomach, wet and blood-dark now. Virgil was so close. Richie could hear it in his pulse.

The edge of the knife was skin-warm, hard like a fingernail as he scraped the pointed tip up the side of Virgil's penis. The thin skin split, drooling blood like come down the edge. With just his thumb, he pushed Virgil's cock straight up so the blood could flow down, trickling across his balls. He scratched again, quick, just to see another river, to hear the ohsoclosedoitnow sounds from his lover's throat.

He wanted to tease, to scratch him with his nails and teeth and everything but the knife, but there was extra urgency in Virgil's noises, extra need for that release. Words lie, but the body always tells the truth. You just had to listen.

Richie pressed the knife flat against the arc of his erection, holding it up with the blade as he positioned his mouth. He licked the head, breathed hotly, then swallowed knife and cock at once. He went down as far as he could before the knife could split his lip. There was a difference in solid flesh and solid metal that he could feel, but it all tasted the same. He sucked, moving his tongue carefully, teasing his throat against the deadly edge.

As he pulled off, he twisted the knife and dragged it down, cutting deeper, almost taking his tongue with it. The noises Virgil made were like pure heaven. As soon as the knife was set aside, he fell back down, swallowing all the way until he could taste the thick salt semenbloodstatic in his stomach.

Richie held Virgil's softening flesh in his mouth, cradling it carefully, drinking the still-flowing blood with gentle pulls until he could taste its ebb. Metahuman healing had its advantages. Carefully, he let it slip from his mouth, settling it against one blood-splashed thigh.

It was a messy business parting this time, dried blood like cement against their skin. When Richie settled beside Virgil on the bed, his lover's eyes opened, lazy and satiated and more at peace than he'd been all week. It wasn't normal, what they had, but neither were they. The softening glow of electricity across his knuckles was as much a clue to that as the flaking blood on his chest. Virgil's fingers came away from the bars with an almost painful slowness, uncurling as he lowered his arms and reached out for Richie. He let Virgil hold his face steady, let him kiss him just as hard and heavy as before, let him clean the blood off his face, but he pulled his hand away when it strayed lower.

"Did you..."

"So good," Richie whispered against his mouth, rubbing against him to show his own flaccidity. Virgil relaxed, letting the kisses cool to slow, steady making out, gentle touches and whispers that were so unlike everything they just did. For a moment, Richie could feel a smile against his lips, wide and wild like the old days.

"So good," he whispered again, listening to the contented growl in response.

Words lied. You just had to listen.


End file.
